


Snapshot

by Causa



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8438401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Causa/pseuds/Causa
Summary: Winter helps her siblings get ready for the family photo.





	

Winter sighed as she closed the door behind her and looked out at the room before her, large and empty, save a small clock hanging on the wall. Her father never ventured far from his study; he probably didn't know the room existed. He'd be angry if he saw it—he didn't like anything not covered in useless trappings, she thought to herself, smirking. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, felt the cool air in her nostrils. She stepped forward, the sound of her heels on the ground entering her ears. There were none of her father's shouts, no glass shattering against the wall, no cries from Weiss and Whitley—only her feet, moving slow and controlled. She opened her eyes and leapt and spun, bouncing from wall to ceiling to floor, gliding from glyph to glyph in midair, skating across them like ice. She increased her speed, smiling as she felt her herself cutting through the air's resistance, her body a blade. She swirled and turned and landed on her tiptoes; then she moved again, her body lighter, quicker, swifter—and again, and again, and again, until she caught a glimpse of herself in the crystal-clear doorknob and lost her footing. Her hair clung, wild, to her cheeks; her face shone with sweat. Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall; her hands began to tremble, her body tightening, her heart pounding so forcefully she felt it would rip open her chest. Gasping, she moved to the door and opened it slowly. 

"Klein!" 

Her voice was weak; as she began to call him again, she heard the small man's footsteps and sighed. The man entered the door, his hands full. 

"Your clothes, Miss Schnee." 

"Thank you, Klein," said Winter softly. "My hairbrush?" 

"Right here, Miss Schnee." 

"Klein, is—"

"I'm sorry, Miss Schnee, but I have to get back to Weiss' quarters. She and Whitley aren't ready yet either." 

"You're supposed to be meeting the photographer in five minutes," she said, speaking louder now. She gripped the hem of her shirt, looking at her shoes. "Mother's not ready either?" 

"Uh—no, Miss Schnee. I woke her up, but I—" 

"Go wait by the entrance. I'll take care of them." 

Klein looked at her, his brown eyes glistening. "Are you sure, Miss Schnee? I can—"

"Yes! Go on. Hurry up." 

Winter dressed quickly, brushed the knots out of her hair and carefully put it up. She moved briskly through the house, stopping when she heard Weiss' giggles; the hair on her neck stood up. 

"Weiss!" she called. "You'd better be dressed." 

"Winter!" The girl stood in the doorway, laughing. 

"This isn't funny. What have you done to your hair?" 

The girl spun, her skirt swaying. "I like it like this." 

"It's—asymmetric. It's unsettling. Father will hate it." 

The girl crossed her arms. "Well, I like it, and it's _my_ hair." 

Winter knelt to the ground and smoothed the hem of Weiss' skirt. "Look," she said quietly, "I like it too. But this is Father's picture, not yours. When you arrange for a family photo, you can wear your hair however you want." 

"I will," said Weiss. "And I'll make everybody wear it just like this—even Whitley. I'll make him grow his out," she said, laughing. 

"Where is Whitley?" 

"His room, I guess." 

Winter sighed. "We have to be in the foyer in half an hour." 

"That's plenty of time." 

"Weiss, go help him. Just make sure his shirt is tucked in and his tie is straight." 

"Fine, but _you_ have to do something for _me_ , then." 

"Okay, fine. We'll discuss the terms later. Go, go," she said, patting her sister on the back. 

She stood and sighed, felt weight swell in her chest until she could barely breathe. Winter left the girl's room, watched her run down the hall with arms swinging, and ascended the staircase. When she reached the door she knocked quietly.

"Mother? Are you dressed?" 

After moments of silence she turned the door's handle and stepped inside. She grew nauseous as she stepped closer to the woman whose body was splayed out, scantily covered by silk bedsheets. 

"Get up." 

There were mostly-empty bottles of something foul-smelling on the nightstand; Winter lifted them gingerly and threw them out the open window and stood there. 

"Father sees you with those, he won't be happy."

"What's he going to do? Kick me out of my own fucking manor?" 

"No, but he might throw something at your head again." The sky was crisp, clear, cloudless. 

"Well, you're a fighting girl now," the woman said, amused. "I'm sure you can protect me from flying vases." 

"Why aren't you dressed? Klein can't look after you _and_ the children."

"Of course not. He's one man. Your father's too damned cheap to get anymore help." 

"Maybe he expects the mother of his children to do her job," Winter said.

"My job?" the woman scoffed. "He's the one who wanted an heir so damn badly. You're telling me he can't take two minutes to tie his son's bow-tie?" Winter heard the mattress creak. "Oh, of course not. That's _my_ job." 

"It's a mother's job to protect her children." 

"You know, my memory's a bit spotty," the woman said. "When was the last time you three were attacked by those creatures in the city? Or the last time you had to beg for scraps on the street because you were starving?" 

"You didn't need him to give us any of that." 

She laughed. "You know, one day, you're going to meet a man—and he's going to say a lot of sweet things, and you'll believe most of them." She clicked her teeth. "Or maybe not, if you keep being such a bitch. I suppose there's always women. Women are a lot more forgiving—more romantic." 

"He almost struck Weiss." 

"Stop being so dramatic. I know that's the only way you feel like you can get attention around here—"

"You have to be dressed and in the foyer in twenty minutes or Father's going to be very upset." 

"I'm not afraid of him, Winter. He can't do anything to me." 

Winter bit her lip until she tasted blood in her mouth. "What if he does something to Weiss?" 

"He's not going to do anything to Weiss," the woman said, laughing. "You make it sound like he's one of those monsters." 

Winter sighed, felt bile in her throat, swallowed deeply. 

"And if you're _so_ very worried about your sister, why are you leaving? Why don't you stay here?" 

"I would take her with me—"

"You coddle her. She doesn't need to be coddled. She's a bit of a brat." 

Winter scoffed and turned to face the woman; her white hair, stringy and stuck to her sunken face, already looked to be thinning. 

"You need to get dressed. Your hair is a mess." 

"Nothing of mine is ever a mess," said the woman, rising unsteadily, her gown boxy on her thin frame. 

"He wants us to wear—"

"I know. He told me yesterday," the woman said, passing Winter, opening the top drawer of her dresser. "Such a romantic. First time he talked to me in two days and it was an—an order. You know, he used to be so gentle—" 

Winter could smell the woman's breath and it made her feel ill. 

"Brush your teeth before you go down," she said, and left.


End file.
